


I am the one, who will live on.

by Savvylicious



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Feelsy, I do this all to myself honestly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savvylicious/pseuds/Savvylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and the line of Durin survives, but at a great cost. For every life spared, another is lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am the one, who will live on.

The sun stretched over the mountain, shining deep and red as it made its descent into the night. The dead on the battlefield were countless. Goblins, dwarves, men, orcs, wargs, and elves alike lay scattered in heaps as far as the eye could see. Thorin looked on solemnly, free of the gold sickness that had consumed him not but hours ago. There was an unsettling feeling in his gut, and he longed to tear himself away from Bard and Thranduil to see how his company had fared.

The elf king took the Arkenstone from a box and offered it to Thorin, which he accepted with some disdain. He was not eager to fall prey to the madness again and handled the jewel with care. He gave a curt nod to the two, and immediately made for the dwarven encampment.

It was with a heavy heart that his eyes laid upon Dwalin, Bifur, and Bofur, lying side by side on the ground, still and unmoving. Ori and Dori were crouched near them, heads hung low in grief. Ori had Bofur’s hat clutched tight in his grip and one shaking hand on Dwalin’s pauldron. Thorin closed his eyes and grieved, promising to pay them proper homage once he’d checked on everyone else. Balin stood a little farther away, no doubt in anguish over his brother’s death. Thorin could do nothing more than bring his fellow dwarf into a tight embrace, doing his best to ignore the stinging of his eyes.

“The others….?” He almost dreaded asking.

Balin sighed and squeezed back, glad for the comfort Thorin offered. “Alive. Some with the healers. Some seeing other wounded.”

Relieved, Thorin pulled back, his lips twitching. Balin continued to look miserable and Thorin had the feeling be hadn’t been told everything. “Where are Kili and Fili? I wish to see them.”

There was a long pause, but Balin finally confessed. “They are with Bilbo.”

Thorin felt his eyes narrow, but not out of anger. He was surprised to know that it was out of concern. Balin must have known it too for he put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder and shook it, a very solemn look on his face.“Our Hobbit redeemed himself today Thorin. At a great price.”

For a long while, all Thorin could think about was how cruel he’d been to Bilbo when last they’d met. Anger was no excuse for his actions that day.

“Where?”

“Gandalf’s tent. In the elven camp.”

Thorin nodded, curtly, and then pulled away, walking briskly towards the other side of the river, mind racing. He’d yelled at Bilbo. He’d struck one of his most closest friends. And worst of all he’d merely watched on in silence as Bilbo had wept before him, apologetic and clearly in absolute misery. He’d put gold and his own selfish pride before Bilbo, and now he knew he was paying dearly for it. Bilbo had been true to him, and like a callous fool, Thorin had been blind.

Gandalf’s tent was not hard to find. The wizard himself was sitting outside it, quietly smoking and from the look of it, expecting him. Thorin had only to step closer and Gandalf pulled aside the coverings to let him inside.

“——and everything is all settled. Thanks to you.”

Fili and Kili were sitting, blocking the view of the bed with their bodies. Both were clearly injured, but Thorin knew his nephews would not be so easily dissuaded. He was about to make his presence known when a tiny voice spoke, so faint that Thorin could hardly hear it over the noise of outside.

“You both make me sound… As if I’m some sort of hero…. I’m flattered. But I’m not.”

Thorin’s eyes turned to the mithril armor he’d given Bilbo before their spat in the treasure room. His breathing quickened to see that it was stained dark with blood.

“You are!” Kili insisted. “Granted, it was stupid of you to take on Bolg all by yourself—-”

“But you saved our lives—”

“And made Thorin see reason—-”

“And I don’t know if I can still call him friend after the way he’s treated both you and us.” Fili finished, his voice low.

Another twist on his heart and Thorin felt himself frown deeply. He was about to turn and take his leave when Bilbo spoke again, his tone fond, where he’d expected bitterness. “Don’t be so hard on him… I may not have known Thorin as well as you two, but I know in my heart that… That the Thorin we saw in Erebor was not the same Thorin we traveled here with.”

Kili and Fili visibly deflated, but could not deny they agreed.

Bilbo offered them a weak smile. “I’m sure he knows what a fool he’s been. He’ll come to make it up to you. Just give him time.”

Kili did not look so convinced, but Fili was wiser, and he nodded. With a tired sigh, he stood and pulled his brother with him, smiling down at the hobbit with a forced casualness. “We should let you rest now Bilbo.”

The younger of the two, unaware that he was not going to see their burglar again grinned cheerily, “We’ll come back when you’re feeling up for a feast!”

“I look forward to it,” Bilbo mumbled, his eyes closed.

Kili beamed and they both bowed, noticing Thorin on their way out. Fili visibly darkened, but neither gave him so much as a second glance. Thorin was left to stand there in silence, and it was there he stood for a few moments before he found that he really could move his feet. Silently, he took a seat where Kili had been sitting and watched the stilted rise and fall of Bilbo’s chest.

“You faced Azog, defending me. And now I hear you’ve done the same again, only with my nephews.” Thorin licked his lips, his hands gripping his thighs just a bit too tight. “The line of Durin owes you much, Master Baggins.”

“Please,” the Hobbit murmured, eyes opening just enough so that he could see Thorin, “I’ve had quite enough of Mister Baggins and Master Baggins to last me a lifetime. Makes me sound like someone important.”

Thorin smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “What would you have me call you then?”

“Mmh… I think I was rather Tookish today. But if its all the same to you, I think Bilbo would do just fine.”

They shared a moment of the fond camaraderie they’d been building up for the duration of their journey together, but time was not with them today. Bilbo’s breathing became more labored and it looked as if his being awake was taxing him harshly.

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Hmmn… And why not?”

Thorin leaned closer, brows knitting together, “Because you were not trained to fight. This fight was not yours. This price should not have been yours to pay.”

“I don’t seem to recall that being a major concern of yours last we met.”

Somehow, hearing the words from Bilbo seemed to sting more than when he’d berated himself. Their fight played vividly in his mind, every cruel word he’d said to the Hobbit pained him like a stab in his gut. Bilbo however, wasn’t finished.

“I thought… I thought that maybe if I made it up to you somehow… You’d forgive me.”

Thorin clenched his teeth, only barely able to hide his obvious distress. “You were forgiven… You were never to blame, Bilbo. I am… The one at fault.”

Bilbo said nothing as his hands were picked up and squeezed lightly in Thorin’s callused grasp.

“You have always looked out for me, just as I have looked out for you. Even the many times I doubted you, you continued to care. Where the others had given up on me, I knew in my heart that I could count on you. You stood true by my side, in my both my good health and madness, and were brave and foolhardy enough to try and save me from myself. But it’s only now that I… That I realise I was a fool. And now I fear it is too late.”

Thorin’s eyes were red, and tears had begun to stream down the sides of his cheeks. “I have failed you, and I am sorry. I am so sorry, my friend.”

The hobbit was quiet for a long time, but eventually he smiled and began to cry himself. He’d been so composed this whole time, so content with the knowledge that he was dying that now he felt panicked. Thorin forgave him. They were friends again. Kili and Fili wanted him to rest and get well but now it was most disconcerting that he couldn’t. He’d been okay with passing on but now that all was well he found that he was not ready to go.

“Thorin—” he gasped, hiccuping, “Thorin I don’t…. I don’t want to…”

“I know.”

“It hurts— It hurts so much and I’m so frightened. I was ready but now I don’t want to go. I want to go home and see my home again. I want to feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair. I want— I want to go to market… And have tea… I want to see my family.”

Thorin could only hold Bilbo’s hands tighter, too afraid of adding onto the halfling’s pain to do much else.

“Is it… Is it alright? To be scared?”

Thorin thought hard for a moment, and nodded stiffly. “It is. The unknown can be terrifying.”

When Bilbo sobbed, whimpering in pain, Thorin added, “Were our places switched, I would be just as scared.”

“Truly….?”

“Aye.” Not that he would have been so open about it, but Thorin thought he would be just as frightened and unwilling to die. “But, I would not feel unaccomplished. You have done a great more good than any hobbit has done yet. Be proud, Bilbo.”

Thorin blinked his eyes clear, not minding the water that continued to dribble down. “Be proud and hold your head up high when you step into the next world. When they ask of you here I will boast of your greatness and I expect you to do the same.”

Bilbo’s breathing quieted and his lax hands in Thorin’s grasp were getting colder.

“Thorin?”

Bilbo’s voice was so faint now that Thorin had to lean down and muffle his own breath to hear, “Yes?”

“I would like… To hear you sing again. Very much so…”

Thorin blinked once in surprised but remained where he was for the moment because Bilbo seemed to have more to say. “You sang when we first met… And as I slept that night I dreamt of Erebor… And the gold…. The trees and halls… Home…”

“What would you have me sing?”

But Bilbo was already unconscious and could not answer. Thorin stared at his prone form for a long while, then lowered his voice and began to sing, quietly.

_"I feel sun, through ashes in the sky._  
Where’s the one, who’ll guide us into the night?  
What’s begun, is a war that will force this divide.  
What’s begun, is fire and the end of time."

Thorin placed Bilbo’s hands back on the bed, indulging himself with the touch of the Hobbit’s honey brown locks. They were soft, and pliant beneath his gentle fingers.

_“I am the one, who can recount what we’ve lost. I am the one, who will live on.”_

Bilbo’s face relaxed, and it was almost like he was merely falling asleep. Only Thorin knew the moment Bilbo’s chest stopped rising, that his companion was in a sleep that he would never wake from. Despite all that had transpired, Thorin was thankful that they had not parted in poor company, even if his heart burned now with a pain that was unbearable. He bowed his head low and pressed a light kiss to Bilbo’s brow, murmuring a final farewell in Khuzdul and stayed like that the whole night, weeping in silence and singing himself hoarse.

**Author's Note:**

> [ If one is interested, the song is from Dragon Age Inquisition. 'I am the one.' Very haunting, very sad, very fitting. ]


End file.
